


Rowan Whitethorn: Sad Drunk

by aelin_and_feyre



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Book 3: Heir of Fire, Canon Compliant, F/M, rowaelin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelin_and_feyre/pseuds/aelin_and_feyre
Summary: If Rowan had gotten drunk after seeing Aelin's scars in Heir of FireLine Prompt: "I may have had a few shots"





	Rowan Whitethorn: Sad Drunk

Celaena didn’t know what to think. After Rowan had stormed out, she let herself fall asleep in the bathtub. The water was cold and her fingers were crinkly when she woke up, probably a few hours later. Her muscles ached with the effort it took to sit up and look around. She was alone. Rowan hadn’t come back. 

The water splashed as she stood, wrapping herself in a towel. Celaena, no longer having the strength to stand, slumped against the wall as she tried to dry her hair. 

Why hadn’t he come back? Celaena thought, He must have seen worse in his time as a warrior. 

Finally mustering the courage to slowly make the trek back to her room, Celaena stumbled to the door, wrapping her towel tightly around herself. When she opened the door however, she was met with a wall of flesh covered in tattoos, scars, and bandages. Bandages she had made necessary. 

“Rowan, I-” She started, voice rough and weary, but halted when she looked up at his face. 

His eyes were blurry, almost glassy like he had been crying or was about to cry and he was looking down at her with such sorrow. Celaena had never seen the warrior so somber, save for when he had told her the story of his lost mate. 

With a slight jerk of his head, he turned and started to walk down the hallway, leaving her no choice but to follow him.

Further inspection revealed that Rowan’s eyes were bloodshot and he seemed to sway just a bit on his feet. Celaena narrowed her eyes, resting a hand on the wall for support as she struggled to keep up with him. She knew he was slowing down for her even, and automatically felt embarrassed for her weak state, no matter that he was the one who forced her into it. Rowan slowed his pace even more. 

“Endovier.” Rowan stated, his usual mask slipping to allow Celaena a glimpse of his true thoughts. A mix of pain, anger, and pity flashed across his face. However, Celaena fiercely did not want his pity and told him as much. “It’s not pity. I’m actually impressed.” His words slurred the slightest bit and Celaena wondered where he had gone for those hours she was asleep.

“Impressed?” She quirked an eyebrow but stumbled as her legs failed her. Rowan caught her before she could fall on her face and scooped her up in his arms for the second time tonight, his arm around her back feeling hesitant. She honestly could not work up the strength to care that she was only in a towel. She relaxed and let him hold her. 

Rowan’s face was back to it’s lethal calm rage that she’d seen before he’d left, though his bloodshot eyes still portrayed something off. “I’ve heard enough about Endovier to know that the life expectancy in only a few months, if that. You surviving for a year amazes me.” He almost seemed awestruck. 

Before she could respond, Rowan continued. “It’s also anger. I spent the last three hours trying not to go storming to Maeve and demand answers she wouldn’t give me. It was also to stop me from flying to Endovier myself and ending the life of each and every person who hurt you.”

His slow gait was so smooth that Celaena was finding sleep beginning to overcome her again. Needless to say, she was incredibly surprised by his truthfulness. She let her eyelids droop. “That’s nice. Too bad most are dead already.” 

His grip on her tightened slightly. “By your hand no doubt?”

Celaena yawned. “Bingo.” She fingered the bandages peeking out beneath his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Rowan, shockingly, simply held her eyes and pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead. They had reached a door she recognized as his room and he opened it without setting her down. No longer tired but rather wide-eyed, Celaena was set on the edge of a king-sized bed that took up most of the room. 

A fire roared in the fireplace that warmed her chilled bones. Now that he was no longer carrying her, Rowan shucked off his shirt and threw a clean one to her so she could cover up. 

Finally, stumbling over to her, still sitting on the edge of the bed, Rowan kneeled in front of Celaena and grasped her head in between his two large hands. Celaena was hyper aware of the fact he could snap her neck with one thought, but from the look coming from his now red-rimmed eyes, she somehow knew that was the last thing he would do right now. 

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know what to do,” She had never heard Rowan Whitethorn stutter before. “It caught me off guard. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Celaena had also never heard Rowan Whitethorn apologize before, pretty sure she would rarely hear it again. 

Slowly, she nodded and watched in amazement as tears started slipping down his cheeks. Suddenly, this whole thing made sense. “You’re drunk?”

Rowan let out a little mumble. “I might have had a few shots.” 

Celaena rolled her eyes and removed his hands from her face. “Go to sleep Rowan.” She threw his shirt on one of his chairs and shakily stood, pulling Rowan up with her. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Oh, no you won’t,” Rowan scooped her up again, drawing the covers back with one hand and sliding her under them before tucking her in, all in one smooth motion. Celaena was stunned. “I may be slightly inebriated but you aren’t getting out of this bed for a while missy.” 

“Did you just call me ‘missy’?” She asked incredulously. Probably more than a few shots. 

“I did.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Deal with it.” A short burst of laughter escaped and Rowan’s head snapped to her, his eyes filling with tears again. “Your laugh is so beautiful.” 

“Oh my, you need sleep.” She laughed again. “Who would’ve have thought, Rowan Whitethorn, a sad drunk.” Celaena patted the space next to her and Rowan flopped down on top of the covers, bouncing her slightly and turning his head to look at her. 

“You’re amazing.” He whispered. 

Celaena shook her head. “And you’ll never remember this in the morning. Goodnight, Rowan.” 

“Goodnight, Aelin.” 

Celaena fully planned on sneaking back down to her room, no matter how long it took, rather than face his wrath in the morning when he found her in his bed. However, soon after his breaths finally evened out, her eyes closed as well. When she awoke a few hours later from the sounds of revelers returning from the night’s activities, a strong arm was slung over her waist, Rowan’s breath warming her shoulder as he slept peacefully. She couldn’t find the strength or the will to push him off. 

Instead, before falling back asleep, Celaena simply whispered, “I’m never letting you do shots again, mister.”


End file.
